Every Step Seems Two
by emelye14283
Summary: Magdalene was the Winter Child, the cold one, the quiet girl. After her brother and lover are killed in front of her, she falls through the RIFT and lands in Cardiff. Can she let the past go, or will old memories continue to haunt her? Jack/OC
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One

A/N: Got the idea for Magdalene's character while listening to Evanescence's "Bring Me To Life". And since I haven't really written a Torchwood story recently, I thought I'd plop her down in Cardiff. And since Jack is just so irresistibly sexy in a bizarre kind of way… haha, enjoy!!

Magdalene was running. Her heart was pounding furiously as icy cold gasps of breath pierced her exhausted lungs. Leaping over branches and stones, her legs could barely keep her upright. She could hear dogs howling behind her, and men's voices raised in anger. Twigs and branches held out their fingers, tangling them in her clothing and hair, cutting at her skin life so many icicles. Howling, shouting, terror.

_Keep running! _her instincts told her. _Keep running and never, never stop!!_

But she knew perfectly well that she'd have to stop eventually. And when she did, there was going to be hell to pay.

She shuddered inwardly, already able to feel the dogs' teeth ripping her worn, battle-scarred flesh to bits.

But maybe, just maybe, death wasn't the worst option. She'd come to learn a thing or two about life, through death.

First went Fionn, her brother. Battle was an ugly thing, especially if you were young and pig-headed and desperate for the glories of war, as Fionn was. Magdalene felt the cold bite into her skin as she thought of her brother. Always smiling, always a warm presence… the Summer child.

But he wasn't smiling that terrible day. The bloodlust in his eyes as the look-out's horn blew was truly terrifying. Magdalene had strapped on his sword, acting as his lady in place of the wife he did not have. She had been shaking all over, head whirling with worry for her closest friend.

One of the dogs let out a piercing howl that split the frigid air of the night like a knife. Chills that had nothing to do with the wintry weather ran up and down Magdalene's spine, their freezing fingers leaving a tingling, electrifying sensation behind them.

Fionn had been brave, reckless, and loyal to the death. _To the death…_ Magdalene reflected miserably. _Oh, Fionn, you stupid boy! _He had been one of the first to fly onto the field of battle, and one of the last to finally accept defeat, with a sword through his middle, his life's blood flowing out onto the trampled ground.

Magdalene had been one of the pale, worried wraiths flitting around the blood-bathed field looking for survivors after the tumult had died down. She was the one who had found him, gasping for his last breaths in this life. She'd held him as the life left his body.

Another howl. More steps, more frozen breaths, more pain. But she would never give up. Not while her legs could still hold her up. She kept going- for Fionn… for…

Tears pricked at her eyes, and immediately froze on her cheeks as they came in contact with the bitingly cold wind that whipped past her, causing her long black hair to fan out behind her. The second death had been more recent, occurring only two days ago. That death was the reason she was running madly from the hunters. That death was the reason she felt so broken, empty, and cold inside as well as out.

Niall was a poet, by nature and by trade. He was romantic and chivalrous to the core, and what's more, he loved her. He truly did love her. He had found it in his large, warm heart to love the Winter child. The cold one. The princess of ice. She had been born to the royal couple, and in their land at the time, the children must be born to balance the realm. That meant summer and winter. Fionn and Magdalene. Fionn, the Summer child, had always been loved by all who knew him. And Magdalene… well, there was only so much a courtier or potential suitor could take of long silences and calculating stares. But Niall, in his goodness, had found it in himself to care, to get to know her, to find the best in her and to bring it to the surface.

_Oh, God, Niall! _she cried inside her head, for her labored breathing was all that her airways could sustain at the present time. He didn't care if she was cold, aloof, and distant. He knew the meaning of hidden depths. And it was that connection, that understanding, that had caused Magdalene to fall for him as well.

They had meant to be happy together. They'd meant to live out their lives together, never parted, happy forever. But that, alas, was not to be. When Magdalene's father told her she was to be betrothed to the Earl of the Moorlands, she had been struck speechless, unable to break her moral code and scream out that she would not accept the offered betrothal. He dimwittedly took her silence as acceptance, and had proceeded with the marriage treaty. But she couldn't, and wouldn't, marry the earl while she was still able to be with Niall. They had panned an escape, an elopement, but the wretched earl, being possessive as he was, took Magdalene's refusal and Niall's "impudence" as a personal slight and hunted them down. He challenged Niall to a fight to the death, and Niall, being unable to refuse (seeing as he and Magdalene were backed up against a cliff wall) had been the unfortunate loser. He, too, had died in her arms, his last breath drawn in pain. Still, at least he died after the earl, who had received a dagger through the heart by the viciously angry Magdalene. And that was why these wretched hunters and their horrid dogs were after her, chasing her until her body would take no more. They were after what they termed justice. They wanted her head, or at least the satisfaction of seeing her blood run in red rivulets through the pure white snow.

Concentrating now on simply putting one foot in front of the other, Magdalene could only hear the sound of her own ragged breathing, and the sound of her heart as thundered against her body ribcage. She could feel nothing but the immense weight of exhaustion pressing down on her thin, pale form. She held her tattered green skirts high in an effort of keeping them from snagging on protruding branches, and for that same reason, she had dispensed with her black cloak long ago. All she was capable of knowing was the terrible cold, the tiredness, and the terror of the chase.

She started praying. Not to any deity in particular, but to any god that would be willing to lend an ear. _Please, help me! Let me escape these dratted dogs! Or if you can't do that, just let me die quickly. Then I'd see Fionn again, and my wonderful Niall! Just end it now!_

And suddenly, all was blackness. She could feel herself falling, falling, falling, her sense of equilibrium thrown for a terrible loop, her head spinning and her stomach churning as though she was going to be violently ill… but she could see nothing but blackness al around her, and could hear nothing but the rush of her own heated blood and her relentless heartbeat. She was capable of feeling no more shock and mind-numbing fear, but she was curious as to what was happening.

_Am I dead?_ she wondered. _Was my prayer finally answered? What is happening?_

Then she felt as though her body had hit solid rock, and she regained her senses again for one fleeting moment, taking in the sight of some strange, rocky surface on which she rested, hearing a strange rumbling noise, and feeling a warm breeze on her tired body before she lost consciousness and slipped into the land of darkness.


	2. New Beginnings?

Chapter Two

A/N: Thanks to my soul reviewer, thebloodrose, for being so prompt with the encouragement! Thanks so much! Allons-y!!

In her unconscious state, Magdalene dreamed.

_She was staring into a full length mirror, clothed in a long, regal dress that was a pure, snowy white. The reflection's icy, blue-white eyes penetrated her own with a knife-like sharpness as though she could see right into Magdalene's tormented heart. Just then, in the mirror, a dark, cloaked figure approached the Magdalene-in-the-Mirror with a small hand axe raised threateningly over her head. The real Magdalene tried to warn her other self of the danger she was in, but the menacing figure was too quick for her. He brought the axe down on the pale reflection's head with a loud, porcelain-like crack. Magdalene watched in wide-eyed, open-mouthed horror as her reflection cracked into a thousand tiny shards, revealing bleak, lonely emptiness within…_

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_She was walking through a forest, green and leafy in the last throes of summer. A warm breeze tickled her cheek, causing her to smile. Her heart soared as she watched a pair of sparrow chasing each other through the bright canopy of leaves above her head. Then she heard a voice calling her name._

'_Magdalene!'_

_She turned, and grinned again as her gaze landed on Fionn. He was also smiling, and holding out his arms in expectation of a hug. Giggling, she ran to him and flung her arms around his neck, glad to be with him again._

_But then the pleasant vision turned into a nightmare. Fionn let out a cry of pain and pushed her away slightly, looking in horror at his midriff. Magdalene followed his eyes, and screamed in terror as she saw a crimson rose blossoming over his green tunic. Before she could gather her senses and attempt to staunch the bleeding, Fionn looked at her in shock. 'You… it was __you__…' And with that, he slipped out of his mortal shell, leaving Magdalene alone to grieve in the forest which had suddenly turned cold and forbidding…_

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_She was walking along in a dream state, unsure of what she was doing. Something wasn't right, but she couldn't put her finger on what it was. The wind was too soft, the sunlight to pale to be real. And then she saw it- the figure of her mother, standing by the wooden fence, staring at her._

_It was the presence that made Magdalene feel uneasy. The eeriness of seeing her mother, after she'd been dead for four years, made tingles run up and down her spine. She approached the woman carefully, checking to make sure that it was indeed her mother. And it was._

'_Mamma?' she hazarded, drawing nearer to the pale woman._

_Her mother let slip a tight-lipped smile. 'Yes.'_

'_But… you…' Magdalene stammered, unsure of what to say. There was a change in her mother. Something…_

_Her eyes. Yes, it was her eyes. They had turned a disturbing red color that made Magdalene take a step backward._

_Her mother turned away from her, as though in shame, a thin, bony hand covering her face. Then she whipped back around… and struck…_

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'Oy!' was the first sound she heard as she tugged her way back to consciousness. 'What do you think you're doin', then?' All Magdalene could deduce from the voice was that her assailant was a man.

She opened her eyes blearily and saw a pair of shoes, presumably attached to a pair of legs, but Magdalene couldn't be sure, seeing as her vision was still a bit cloudy. She could feel a hard surface beneath her, and registered the strange, slightly twisted position she'd landed in. Her head was pounding painfully, and her whole body felt as though it had been hit by a falling boulder. She let out a groan and blinked, willing her vision to clear up. And, obligingly, it did so. The pair of shoes were attached to legs, after all. Legs swathed in a strange, blueish material. And the shoes were odd, too. Not the hunting boots Magdalene was used to seeing on men where she came from. More like… leather slippers with white laces. She followed the line of the person's legs and made her way up to the face. He was a husky man, well-built and hefty. His eyes were small and dark, far apart on his face. His hair was a nondescript brown, common, nothing remarkable. The expression on that plain face, however, piqued Magdalene's interest. Why was he staring at her like that?

'Who… what… where am I?' Magdalene asked in a voice that was low, almost rough with disuse these past couple days.

'What do you mean, where are you?' he cried with a laugh. 'Are you daft?'

_Daft? What in the world does "daft" mean?_ she wondered. 'I don't believe so,' she answered. 'And by my question, I meant what I said. Where in the name of all that is holy am I?' she demanded in an irritated snarl, furiously rubbing her right shoulder in an effort to rid the joint of pain.

'You're in Cardiff, ain't ye?' he said, acting as thought she was crazy.

_Maybe I am,_ she reflected.

'Rhys!' called a woman's voice from a slight distance. 'Rhys, what's keeping you?'

Reflexes depressingly slow, Magdalene turned her head to stare around. There was, swiftly approaching, a woman. She was as strangely-clothed as the man. She took one look and Magdalene, prostrate on the ground, and at the man, and asked, 'Who's this?'

'No idea,' the man- Rhys- answered. 'I was just asking.'

Magdalene shook her head. Things were getting just a bit too weird for her. She attempted to push herself to her feet, but her arms shook so violently that she flopped right back down again onto the strange, bumpy surface.

'Whoa!' the woman cried, lunging forward to help her. She gently slipped her hands through one of Magdalene's crooked elbows and helped her to her feet. 'Are you all right?' she asked concernedly, her blue-green eyes full of sincere worry. Magdalene decided that she liked the woman. She was kind, even to strangers that, presumably, fell out of the sky and landed in her life. 'What happened?' she inquired.

Magdalene shook her head. 'I'm not altogether sure…' she answered, bringing a hand to her head and closing her eyes as the woman guided her to a bench, whose paint was dull and peeling.

'Too much drink, lass?' chuckled the man. Him, Magdalene did not like. He seemed a perfect example of the royal jerk.

But which sounded more believable? _I drank too much mead, _or _I was running from a pack or mad dogs who were out for my blood since I killed my fiancée who'd just slain my lover, and I was suddenly falling through a pool of blackness and ended up here after having a series of ridiculous dreams that seemed drug-induced though I was perfectly sober at the time?_ To Magdalene, the choice was obvious. So she nodded dully in answer to the twittish man's question.

'Rhys, just shut up,' the woman snapped. 'Here, just sit down,' she instructed Magdalene gently. 'A better place to rest than the sidewalk, at any rate.'

Magdalene opened her eyes again as she was slowly lowered the rough surface of the bench. 'Thank you,' she told the woman, trying to put her sincere gratitude into her eyes. 'Really, thank you.'

The woman smiled and waved as she went to rejoin the man. Magdalene felt sorry for her, as she seemed to be either related to or going out with the rude man.

As the two walked away, Magdalene looked around her. This place was so… there was no other word for it: bizarre. There was a smooth stone causeway, on which strange-shaped carriages with no horses traveled. There was one familiar thing: a lamp post, but not with the gas-powered light that Magdalene was used to. People in clothing that resembled the pair she'd just been talking to walked by, not one of them looking too happy. Though curious about this strange new world she was suddenly in, Magdalene was wary and slightly scared. How could she get home? Or did she even _want_ to go home? Was there any point in going back to a land in which she was wanted for murder? But staying in this world… how could she scrape by? She'd seen beggars in her homeland, and hadn't thought much of their chances for either survival or happiness. But what could she possibly do to avoid such a life, now that she was here, stranded and alone?

No matter what happened in the future, however, Magdalene was grateful for the rest she was getting. Instead of being chased by dogs, she'd just woken up from a god knows how long slumber and was currently sitting in a state of complete stillness. The rest was welcome to Magdalene, who let out a sigh and tried not to think about the future, or to drown herself in the past (for the magnitude of the last few days had not yet had time to catch up with her, and she wasn't looking forward to that time when it finally came). Instead, she was determined to revel in the present, which was by no means disagreeable.


	3. Picked Up

Chapter Three

A/N: Hopefully I can keep up this pace- a chapter a day. Maybe I'll finally finish a story if I push myself with deadlines!!

Time passed; Magdalene wasn't sure how long. She took some pleasure in people-watching. There were men in neat, clean, freshly-pressed suits, carrying hard cases and talking to themselves with strange-looking devices in their hands, held up by their ears. There were old ladies with large canvas bags dangling off their arms, most of whom were gossiping ant tittering with one another. There were teenagers, some of them holding hands with (presumably) their fiancées or lovers, and others who were just talking and laughing loudly with their friends. There was one elderly man, who shared the bench with her for about a half and hour, a very sweet old man who told Magdalene about his weight problem (his wife had been "feeding him too much corn", you see, so he could hardly fit into his old pants). As he left, Magdalene smiled after him; he reminded of her of her grandfather a little bit.

But the sun had begun to set, so it wasn't long before Magdalene was relatively alone.

She sighed, the empty street dampening her mood. The relative silence was forcing her thoughts back inside her head, where they could swirl around and bring her feelings to an all-time-low. The grief that had threatened her while she was running for her life had been momentarily waylaid by the wonder of this new place in which she found herself. But in the waning light, the street became less like a brilliant thoroughfare and more like a deserted alley, full of darkness, shadows, and despair.

The streetlight winked at her as she cast her glance around, desperate for something to cheer her up and for something to stave off the wave of misery she could feel approaching. At the sound of footsteps, she searched for their source, only to see…

No, it couldn't be. Absolutely insane. The figure across the street had black, slightly shaggy hair, a lanky form, and the exact same gait as…

'Niall!' she cried, leaping to her feet. _Sure, it's crazy, all right- Niall coming back to life and being in the same place as I am- but this is a very crazy place. Maybe I've died, too, and this is heaven, _she rationalized in an attempt to keep her heartbeat at it's normal pace.

She dashed across the road, narrowly escaping being bit by one of the horseless carriages. 'Niall! Wait!' she shouted.

She had captured the figure's attention. He turned to watch her, face half-hidden in shadow. She reached the sidewalk and skidded to a halt right in front of him. 'Niall! I-' She froze, staring up into the stranger's face, newly illuminated by the winking streetlamp.

It wasn't Niall.

Magdalene knew, of course, that it was absurd and ridiculous of her to have gotten her hopes up so high all for nothing, but she felt as thought she was losing Niall all over again as he said, 'Erm… who?' He gave her the once-over, observing her strange, foreign clothing and her deathly pale skin.

Eyes filling with tears, she shook her head. 'I'm sorry. I just thought you were s-someone I knew,' she explained, bowing her head and turning away.

'Don't worry about it,' the stranger assured her, his voice sounding as though he was both worried for her and a little disturbed by her strange behavior.

As his footsteps grew softer and softer, Magdalene felt like a hand was tightly gripping her heart and squeezing the life out of it as she recalled the way Niall's eyes would glow just before he broke out into a grin, the sound of his laugh, and the fierce passion for life that seemed to run through his veins. A wave of crippling grief washed over her, causing her to start shaking. She felt so battered, so hopeless, so… alone.

She sank to the ground, and sat against the winking streetlamp, hugging her knees. A gaping hole grew inside her as she replayed Niall's final moments in her head. The tears increased, and her shaking worsened until she was shivering, despite the warmth lingering in the night air.

A half-hour was all it took for the numbness to invade every grieving particle of her body. Her tears dried, her quaking stopped, and the twisting pain in her heart was replaced by a dull but constant ache. The only thing she could feel was the pain in her head, the relentless drumming of her brain against her skull.

For a while, she wasn't aware of anything around her, until…

One of the strange conveyances- this one black and slightly box-like- pulled up by the curb about twenty feet from where Magdalene was huddled, motionless, on the ground.

All four door opened, and four people clamored out.

If Magdalene wasn't so wrapped up in her own troubles, she would have noticed the strangeness of the group. The man in the long coat seemed to be the leader, for he was talking authoritatively to the rest of them and he held their rapt, undivided attention. He was tall, and had a messy crown of brown hair. Another man was dressed crisply and primly in a suit, rather like the businessmen who Magdalene had been observing earlier. He, too, was dark-haired, but his face was drawn, and nearly expressionless, though it held the hint of sadness. The last man looked, to be honest, like a rake. His face was arrogant and snide. The only woman looked… there was no other word for it: mousy and shy. Despite this, she looked like a sweet enough person.

Magdalene, despite her relative inattention, could hear their voices floating through the still air towards her. '… Tosh, Owen, over there…', '…since Gwen isn't with us, taking the night off again…', and '…eyes peeled…' were clearly distinguishable, but there were a few words Magdalene simply didn't comprehend the meaning of, such as "weevil", "rift" and "guns". The snippets of conversation she heard were enough to take her mind off her loneliness, so she watched the odd-ball group idly, sighing to herself.

The one in the coat, the leader, cast his glance around the nearly-empty street, and it happened to land on her. He passed over her at first, but performed a double-take and stared curiously at her. The arrogant one was talking, and was promptly shushed by the leader as he took a step forward. 'Good evening,' he called to her.

Surprised by this man's behavior, Magdalene was shocked into saying back to him, 'Same to you, sir.'

The woman walked toward her, a worried look on her face. 'Is something wrong?' she asked. 'Are you hurt?'

Instead of a positive reaction, the woman's words only fueled a smoldering irritation in Magdalene's chest. What right did she have to ask? All Magdalene wanted was to be left well alone. So she decided not to answer, for she did not want to lie and say everything was fine, but she didn't want any sympathy.

'Maybe she doesn't speak English,' suggested the arrogant man. 'She looks a bit… dim,' he said with a slight smile at the man in the suit.

This last remark started Magdalene blushing. She understood him perfectly well, of course, but she wasn't sure why he called his speech "English"… wasn't it called the Speech here?

'Shut it, Owen,' snapped the suited man. 'I'm sure she's perfectly capable of understanding us.'

'Maybe she's in shock,' suggested the woman, halfway between the horseless carriage and Magdalene's still form.

'When you lot feel like talking _to_ me instead of _about_ me, let me know,' she muttered in a soft voice than nonetheless carried to the odd group.

The leader, whose eyes were glinting with what seemed to be pleasure at the challenge, fired back with, 'When you feel like being helpful and answering our questions, _you_ let _us_ know.'

'What do you want to know?' she asked, dully, unwinding herself and rising lithely to her feet.

No one spoke for a moment; all four of them simply stared at Magdalene, taking in her appearance.

'Um, Jack?' piped Owen.

The leader looked at him.

'I think we have our man,' he said decisively.

'Yeah,' agreed Jack. 'Or woman, in this case.'

Magdalene watched the exchange with only mild interest, crossing her arms so she felt a slight bit less vulnerable.

'Right; you'll have to come with us,' declared Jack, taking a few steps forward.

Magdalene reacted with the speed of a cat, readying herself for a fight. 'I certainly won't,' she snarled, hand drifting toward the dagger in a leather sheath that was strapped to her belt.

But before she could reach it, all four of the strangers had drawn out weapons made of some dark metal and were holding them aloft, all pointing at the same thing- her heart


	4. Prisoner

Chapter Four

A/N: Sorry for not posting this earlier; I've been a bit behind. Again, my apologies!!

Magdalene shivered, hugging her knees, as she felt the cold wafting from the iron walls of the cell she'd been deposited in. _This hateful place!_ she thought angrily, clenching her jaw as she stared at the wall. _With all its hateful people._

She'd been taken forcefully by the four people, shoved into the back of the horseless carriage, and whisked away to this wretched place. She'd hardly noticed the landmarks they'd passed; she was too busy trying to feel scared.

Trying.

No matter how she tried, she couldn't feel scared of what lay ahead. The only emotions she was capable of feeling were sadness and anger at her captors. They could sell her to slavery, execute her for crimes she didn't commit, keep her in this dratted cell for the rest of her life, but she couldn't manage to feel one grain of fear.

And that vexed her beyond belief.

So she sat, for hours on end, alone in the cold metal dungeon, letting the loneliness seep into her soul and make her feel as cold on the inside as she did on the outside.

She had just managed to doze off (to dreams of red blood and howling dogs) when she heard a door slamming behind her. She jerked awake, cricking her neck. Moaning slightly, she turned her head and saw the leader- Jack- staring down at her haughtily, his arms crossed.

She just stared right back at him, trying to show through her dull eyes the anger she felt toward him. She wanted him to be perfectly aware of how thoroughly pissed off she was. _Keeping an innocent person locked up in a substandard cell for hours without hide nor hair of an explanation!_ she thought, continuing to glare at the man.

'Stand up,' the man ordered her in his authoritative voice.

Generally, Magdalene was remarkably obedient. She wasn't usually the rebellious type- that honor she had always left for Fionn.

But in that moment, she felt anger boiling in the pit of her stomach, and refused to obey him. She sat stubbornly on the floor, maintaining eye contact with a cold glare.

'I told you to get up,' he repeated, his voice growing sharper.

She sneered at him. 'I'm no dog, to be ordered about.' She began to mimic him, saying in a high-pitched voice, 'Fetch. Sit. Stay. Roll over. Play dead.' She dropped the mockery and resumed her glaring. 'I'm not doing it,' she declared.

'Fine,' he responded, more levelly than before. 'Stay seated. That's an order.'

It was as though he knew Magdalene would do what he wanted her to do if he ordered her to do otherwise. Gritting her teeth, Magdalene rose slowly to her feet, never breaking eye contact with Jack.

It was only _after_ she had stood up that she noticed the smile on his face, and realized that she'd just let him win.

She was tempted to sit right back down again, but decided that the action would only make her seem more childish. So she pushed her shoulders back, through her loose black hair over her shoulder defiantly, and held her head snobbishly high.

'How did you come to be here?' he inquired, eyes boring into hers.

_A rather exquisite shade of blue,_ she found herself thinking. _Rather like Niall's._ The connection almost made her start weeping.

'You and your rabble dragged me here,' she answered, trying to keep her voice calm, but unable to keep her gaze away from those eyes. If she focused only on the blue irises, she could almost pretend she was talking to Niall. That was, she could convince herself of this… until he talked again.

'You know perfectly well what I mean,' he admonished her, giving her a stern look rather like her father used to give her when she and Fionn used to sneak into the kitchens for late-night snacks in their youth. The expression made her feel like a naughty little girl, so she bit her lip and directed her gaze to the floor. This show of submission from her seemed to soften him slightly. At least, he sounded less sharp when he asked, 'Where were you before you arrived in Cardiff?'

'Cardiff?' she repeated, looking back up at him. The strange emotions she'd just experienced vanished and she felt herself fall back to earth with a thump. The emptiness was back, memories of her childhood pushed back into the back of her head. 'This is Cardiff?'

Jack nodded.

Magdalene raised her eyebrows delicately. 'I can't seem to stomach it,' she remarked dryly.

Jack only gave the faintest smile to acknowledge that he'd heard her. 'Where were you previously?'

'Being chased by hunting dogs through the forests of the land in which I was the sole surviving heir after killing my fiancée who had just recently murdered my lover,' she said without a hint of irony.

'Nice joke,' he muttered sarcastically, not believing her. 'Want to try the truth this time?'

'That was the truth.'

He laughed, enjoying the joke that Magdalene didn't quite get. Seeing the blank, serious look on her face, he stopped. 'You mean that crap _is_ the truth?' he asked, his eyebrows raised.

Magdalene didn't even bother to give him an answer. 'That place is known in my land as the New Realm. Only five hundred years old.'

'New?'

She nodded. 'The New Realm was created by political reformists from the Old Real, which has existed since Time began,' Magdalene explained.

'And do you know how you came to be here?' he asked.

Magdalene glared at him, ice-blue eyes shining with both irritation and dislike. 'If I knew that, I would get the hell back there! I would rather be torn to shreds by hunting dogs than kept in this wretched cell for the rest of my life!' During this whole exclamation, her face remained completely expressionless, but the passion and anger in her voice betrayed her emotions.

'Courage, a quick temper, and a whole ton of rashness,' Jack, ticking the attributes off on his fingers, summarized. 'I like it.'

Magdalene, unsure of what he meant, kept silent and stared straight ahead. 'How _did_ I come to be here?' she asked dully, not caring all that much about the answer.

'There's a rift, a crack, in time and space, where things- and people- can fall through into other dimensions and times,' Jack replied, turning and pacing slightly, running a hand through his brown hair. 'We- meaning Tosh, Owen, Ianto and I- believe you fell through to Cardiff.'

Magdalene was silent, trying to process this information. 'So… I slipped through a crack in dimensions and landed here?' she asked, summarizing his main points.

Jack nodded.

'Are there parallel worlds?' she asked, feigning disinterest, but really interested.

Jack hesitated, but nodded after a moment.

'Philosophers in the New Realm used to speculate about parallel worlds. Is it true every action creates a new parallel world, where you made a different choice?' she asked. She wasn't quite sure why she was asking Jack this, but he seemed knowledgeable.

_So, there exists a universe in which I am still living happily in the New Realm, with Fionn and Niall, not here in this awful place? I wish I could be there now!_

The door at the end of the hallway opened again, admitting a shadowy figure. As she approached, she came into better light, and Magdalene recognized her. She was the woman who had helped her to the park bench last evening!

The woman met her eyes and Magdalene could tell she was also remembering the previous evening.

'Jack, what's going on?' she asked in a lilting accent.

'Questioning, Gwen.'

Gwen looked between Magdalene and Jack, then proceeded to roll her eyes. 'Oh, for fuck's sake, Jack, let her out,' she ordered. 'She's obviously harmless.'

Magdalene gave her a grateful look, though she wasn't sure Gwen saw it, as she was too busy letting her out of the cell.

'And how is it obvious?' Jack inquired, though he made no move to stop Gwen.

Gwen didn't look at him as she answered, 'I saw her yesterday evening; she was unconscious-'

'After coming through the Rift,' Jack filled in.

Gwen nodded. 'I helped her to a bench, and she made no move to suggest she was dangerous.'

'Sir, I swear to you,' Magdalene chimed in. 'I had no idea what I was doing when I fell through. I am not a threat.'

Jack's blue eyes met hers, wrenching her heart again. She wished Niall had survived to fall through with her. Then she wouldn't be so alone.

'All right,' Jack sighed. 'As much as I hate breaking protocol.' He nodded to Gwen. And with that, he left.

Gwen turned to smile at Magdalene, who was poised at the door of the cell, ready to break free. 'I'm sorry about this,' Gwen said with a wry smile. 'I hate seeing an innocent person behind bars.' The cell door opened, but Magdalene didn't trust it. What if it shut again?

Gwen seemed to notice her hesitancy, because she smiled slightly and said, 'It's all right to come out, you know.'

Magdalene leapt lightly into the hallway, closing her eyes and bracing herself.

Laughing again, Gwen turned to go. 'Ianto's made some coffee, if you want it,' she called back over her shoulder.

'Coffee?' Magdalene found herself asking, watching Gwen go in confusion. 'What's coffee?'


End file.
